Don't Run Into Gunfire
by the little spanko
Summary: Sam is not at all happy with Dean's disregard for personal safety. Dean feels it's ok to risk his life to save his little brother. Sam doesn't want Dean going to Hell any sooner than necessary, and makes that pretty clear. Warning: spanking.


**Author's Note**: I wrote this for FicWriterJet's 20 Prompt Challenge. Prompt was 'Injury'

"Alright, run – I'll draw'em off," Dean said to Sam as he tried to catch his breath, his back pressed up against the dumpster they used as a shield on a dark city street. He looked around the corner of the dumpster, seeing exactly where Gordon and Kubrick were.

"What? No, you're crazy!" Sam tried to reason, but it was too late. Dean had taken off down the street.

Sam watched, frozen in fear, as Dean ran through a hail of gunfire – actually, _towards_ and straight _into_ a hail of gunfire, leapt over a car and into a parking garage to safety. Grinding his teeth, Sam reached up and pulled himself into the same garage to escape.

He could feel his pulse beating much too fast, feel his head humming with far too much adrenaline as he kept moving to keep away from the two men who wanted to kill him. He could hear them, they weren't far behind.

Looking around, Sam kept an eye out for his brother as he made his escape. Dean was nowhere in sight. It was as though he'd vanished.

Having put a good distance between himself and the two hunters out for his head, Sam carefully made his way back to the motel room. When he felt safe enough to risk entering the dingy room, he was shocked to find it empty. No Dean.

Immediately, he pulled out his phone. No call. No text.

Heavily exhaling, Sam began to pace the small room. It took less than a minute before he realized he couldn't take it anymore. Just as he was about to call Dean, the door opened. Sam's irritation rose as an uninjured Dean waltzed in.

"There you are," Sam whined in an attempt at admonishment.

"Heh – sorry," Dean said with a grin. "Stopped for a slice," he shrugged as he walked past his brother.

"Nice move you made, Dean, running right towards the weapons," Sam said as he followed Dean.

Stopping, Dean smirked and pushed out his chest proudly. "Well, what can I say? I'm a bad ass," he said as he turned to face Sam.

Sam looked at him a long moment, face slightly twitching in anger.

Dean slightly snorted and then changed the subject: "Well, I guess Gordon's outta jail, huh?" he asked.

"Uh huh, but we're not done talking yet, Dean." Sam said, stepping forward and looking down at his brother.

Irritation flickered across Dean's face for just a moment before he finally looked up at Sam. "I say we are."

Knowing it sounded childish, but not caring, Sam took another step forward so that their chests were nearly touching and ground out: "Yea? Well I say we aren't."

Pursing his lips, Dean raised his brow and laughed. Typically this move would maintain his control, but Sammy was standing firm.

"C'mon Sammy, I know you're a chick, but enough with the pms," Dean said, softly laughing at his own joke as he turned from his brother. Feeling Sammy follow him, Dean turned back to him and conceded: "Ok, I get it. You're pissed. But Gordon's still out there and we don't have time for soap operas."

Sam wanted to stay mad, wanted to have it out with his brother right then – but a question occurred to him. "How did he know where we were, anyway?"

Pressing his lips together, Dean thought about that for a moment. Eyes widening, he hissed 'Bela' as he flipped open his phone and dialed her number.

"Hello Dean," a cheery Bela answered on the other end.

"You called me yesterday for help," he ground out, skipping pleasantries. "Did you tell Gordon where we were?"

"I did."

"Why?" he growled.

"He had a gun to my head, what was I supposed to do?"

"Call us, maybe? Give us a heads up?" Dean said sarcastically as he paced the room.

"Tsk tsk, you're _much_ better hunters than Gordon. I didn't think it was _needed_, Dean," she cooed.

"There were two of them, and if we survive, you're dead," he said before flipping the phone closed.

"Well, that answers that," Sam said, feeling a slight relief in knowing how they'd been found.

Dean turned towards him, arm up ready to start a tirade against Bela when the phone rang.

"What?" Dean nearly yelled into the phone after seeing Bela's number.

"I don't want you after me, so I got you an address of sorts," Bela responded carefully. "He's in the abandoned warehouse along the river butt up against the forest at the edge of town. We good?"

"If you're right," Dean said and then flipped the phone shut. Looking at his brother, Dean grit his teeth and then went to his bag to check his weapons.

"What'd she say?" Sam asked, walking in between Dean and the door.

"She told me where Gordon is," Dean answered gruffly, zipping the bag up and slinging it over his shoulder. "I'm going to take care of him. You're staying here."

"No I'm not," Sam said, raising his voice.

Dean's eyes widened dangerously. "Yea you are! He isn't after me, he's after you. You stay here."

"We gotta talk," Sam started.

"Sam," Dean warned.

"You are _not_ sacrificing yourself for me like some sort of kamikaze!"

"I prefer ninja; and, well, it's my life," Dean said with his eyebrows raised in sarcasm.

With a satisfied smirk, Dean made to push past his brother and out the door.

Sam had other ideas. Quirking his mouth, he watched his little big brother try to play tough, springing into action when Dean shouldered into him. Throwing a hip check into him and knocking him flat on his face on the floor.

"What in the _hell_?" Dean yelled out in surprised rage, flailing about as he attempted to right himself.

Sam jumped onto Dean's back, grabbing and tossing the bag aside as he wrestled to get a good grip on his brother.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled, stopping short of giving any further warning when he found all his attention was needed in trying to overthrow his little brother from his back.

Finally getting a solid grip on Dean, Sam stood and, using his height to his advantage, began dragging the struggling Dean over to a chair.

"I _said_ we gotta talk, Dean," Sam ground out with some satisfaction. He smirked when Dean glanced up at him nervously, "I've had enough of the act. I can see right through it."

Dean's eyes connected with where they were going and widened in a mixture of panic and disbelief, "Sammy, what the hell are you doing? Let me go!"

"I know you're terrified of going to Hell," Sam continued calmly, ignoring Dean's question.

Dean dug in his heels, pushing back against Sam with all his might one leg at a time in between steps, his eyes locked warily on the chair.

"…your year is running out and it isn't looking good, I get that. I do." Sam moved with Dean, using his motion against him to help propel them on as they neared the chair.

Dean looked up at Sam with a worried smile, "C'mon Sammy, let's use that Sasquatch strength of yours to go get Gordon. ...I didn't know you'd been hittin' the weights."

Sam chuckled at that.

Dean reciprocated the chuckle, feeling a brief moment of relief before noting that Sam retained his firm grip. Panic set in when Sam began to sit down.

"Sammy, wait!" Dean yelled as Sam tugged him over his lap. ".A._Bitch_!"

"Don't talk about Mom that way," Sam chided as he moved Dean into a favorable position as his older brother leveled him with a glare that normally would have scared the shit out of him.

In a last ditch effort to save himself, Dean thrashed and flailed around wildly trying to get lose.

Sam simply waited him out, which only enraged Dean more.

"Ok Sammy, you got me. Yippie. Good for you; now let me the hell up," Dean said with feigned amusement.

"Are you going to stop all this bullshit?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"I'm _trying_ to keep you safe, you asshole!" Dean spat, waving his hands in front of him.

"Wrong answer, Dean," Sam said sternly, raising his hand high in the air, Dean's eyes widening in sync, before bringing in sharply down with a loud smack to the rounded seat of his jeans.

Dean slightly bucked, pressing his lips together and closing his eyes for a moment in attempt to control the pain. Letting out a gravely laugh, Dean said, "Ok. Alright, Sammy. Point made. Let me up."

"No," Sam said, raising his hand again.

Dean's face took on a look of total disbelief and he turned to look back at his brother. "No?"

Sam let the next swat land soundly, gaining him a flinch from Dean. "No," he said a bit louder. "I've been asking you for weeks and it did no good. I do this and suddenly you're agreeable?" He landed another swat, getting another flinch from the owl-eyed Dean. "I'm thinking you need this."

"And I'm thinking I need gank you," Dean said under his breath as he turned his head away.

"What was that?" Sam asked in amusement.

When Dean looked back warily, Sam raised his brow in warning.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything," Dean lied.

Sam laughed outright, enjoying finally getting the upper hand on his brother. It hadn't taken long for the fight to go out of Dean, convincing Sam even more that he was doing the right thing.

"Liar," Sam said as he began landing the swats faster.

Dean lowered his head slightly, closing his eyes against the pain as each smack slightly pushed him forward.

"Hey, remember when we were kids and you used to do this to me?" Sam asked happily.

Dean huffed. "Yea, I do."

"Bet you never thought…" Sam started.

"No I didn't, Sam," Dean cut him off. "Mainly because it isn't _right_."

"How's that?"

"_I'm __**older**_," Dean said in an irritated voice.

"This doesn't seem to be hurting you that much," Sam observed aloud.

"That's because you're a little girl," Dean mocked before he could help himself.

Sam paused, studying Dean closely in a way that Dean found unsettling.

"Guess I'll just have to try harder," Sam said tightly, hoping to worry his brother.

Dean looked back at him, brow knit together. After a moment he said, "Gordon's out there right now. He could be closing in on us as we speak."

"Right. How about you let me worry about that for now," Sam said with a sigh. "After all, like you said, he's after me – not you."

"Like hell I will!" Dean yelled, his ire rising defensively again.

"Now you're getting' it," Sam said, fumbling under his untucked shirt to retrieve his belt.

"Whoa, wait just a freakin' minute," Dean said nervously. He closed his eyes at the sound of leather making its way through belt loops. It was a sound he hadn't heard since childhood. That sound raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

Sam doubled the belt slowly before resting it on Dean's heated ass.

"Would it help if I apologized for the little girl comment?" Dean asked pathetically.

"Not really. You ready?" Sam asked, gripping Dean's waist tighter.

"No – ow! Dammit, Sammy," Dean cried out indignantly. The thick leather seemed to cut right through his thin jeans.

"Sorry Dean, but you're right – Gordon could be coming," Sam said. "We need to finish this up."

What followed was a rain of lashes with the belt that quickly had Dean grunting. He tried twisting his hips away from the connection of the belt, but to no avail. All that he succeeded in doing was catching the stripes of leather on his hips.

It didn't take long for mewling noises to begin escaping his lips as he looked straight ahead with glassy eyes, fists resting on the floor. Finally, though, Dean couldn't take any more stoically and he began trying to push himself off Sam's lap as he cried out here and there. Sam responded by grasping Dean's right wrist and holding it behind his back.

Dean didn't want to crumble in front of his little brother, couldn't bare the thought. When he felt himself nearing that point he pleaded, "_Please_, Sammy. Enough. Don't do this."

But Sam kept on.

The belt kept swinging through the air, landing in thunderous claps on Dean's throbbing rear. He bit his lip as his vocal range went higher, tried curling into himself as he began really thrashing about from the pain as tears streamed down his face.

It was all in vain. He cracked, just like they both knew he would. The first sob came as more of a cough, but soon his entire form was shaking from them as he cried his heart out, his legs kicking wildly behind him.

It was then that Sam chose to begin talking again.

"Dean, I can't watch you do this to yourself. I know you're scared; I would be too. How do you think it makes me feel to see you do this to yourself? You pull away and act like you don't care. I know you do," Sam's voice sounded sadder the longer he spoke. Dean could hear the tears in his brother's voice, which only made him cry harder. "Just be my brother again. It's like I lost you already."

"'M sorry Sammy," Dean managed to get out through his tears.

Sam stilled the belt, looking at Dean with expectation.

"I'll do better," Dean said honestly.

Sam gave him a small smile and let the belt fall to the floor.

Dean slid off his brother's lap and quickly got to his feet. Wiping his face with his arms, he then tried to rub some of the sting away as an embarrassed grin found its way to his lips in an attempt to relieve the awkwardness of the situation.

"We good?" he asked cautiously.

Sam nodded, "If you're done playing ninja, we're good."


End file.
